Poem Hunter
The Song Of Shadows
Walter de la Mare (1873 - 1958 / Kent / England)

The Song Of Shadows

"Sweep thy faint strings, Musician,
With thy long lean hand;
Downward the starry tapers burn,
Sinks soft the waning sand;
The old hound whimpers couched in sleep,
The embers smoulder low;
Across the walls the shadows
Come, and go.

Sweep softly thy strings, Musician,
The minutes mount to hours;
Frost on the windless casement weaves
A labyrinth of flowers;
Ghosts linger in the darkening air,
Hearken at the open door;
Music hath called them, dreaming,
Home once more."

User Rating: 2,9 / 5 ( 80 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

ever been doubleled crossed
Mellow, and beautiful.
What an imagination wonderful What a description has been done on shadow
Beautifully conceived and communicated. Dreamy twilight of shadows. Truly a delight.